


heart of the land

by redluna



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fae, Breeding, M/M, Porn With Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redluna/pseuds/redluna
Summary: So, it was with a heavy heart that Cullen snuck out that night. He might not have done it quite right. There were no jewels to adorn his throat or oils rubbed into his skin. But he had worn his best clothes, waited until he was approaching the time of month when his scent wouldn’t stay as close to his skin as he would have preferred.And, most importantly, he knew where and how to spill the blood.
Relationships: The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966816
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	heart of the land

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a small fill that I had an odd, "Huh, this could go somewhere... Oh well," thought over. And then someone instantly made it better and my friends (bless you the world's best cheerleaders Gangsterbee, Jellysharkbat, and Midwrites <3 ) convinced me that, yep, should probably make that thought a thing.
> 
> And now we're here 5,000 some words later, oh Lordie.
> 
> (Shout to whichever anon sent this message too because, hun, that thought was _perfect_ : https://redxluna.tumblr.com/post/634591474059821056/reading-that-anon-on-cullen-getting-bred-and-going)

It had been close to proper ages since the right to tribute had been respected. The knowledge of what lurked within the woods was apparently an easy weight to carry. At least until the earth began to rebel against them, holding back steadily more of its yield each season.

By then, Cullen had seen little point in waiting for the lottery to be constructed. The whole matter would be little more than a farce at best; bound to descend into those desperate enough pointing fingers at others to survive.

The Rutherford family with their parents already lost to the blight that had turned the last of the crops were an easy target out on the fringes of town. Where the swell of children that had been left behind would have been acceptable in better times, it was now just another excuse.

“Surely, they have enough to spare,” would be the murmurs that’d start up. “Maybe just the youngest…”

So, it was with a heavy heart that Cullen snuck out that night. He might not have done it quite right. There were no jewels to adorn his throat or oils rubbed into his skin. But he had worn his best clothes, waited until he was approaching the time of month when his scent wouldn’t stay as close to his skin as he would have preferred.

And, most importantly, he knew where and how to spill the blood.

It was somewhere by the time that the third drop struck the ground that it started. Not that Cullen got to realize as much before a hand—larger than any he had ever seen—closed around his wrist. There hadn’t been even so much as a snap of a twig or a shift of leaves.

(But then, perhaps that had been a foolish hope.)

“Never much understood this part.” Maker above, the man had horns. Even odder was the shushing noises, soft as anything, when Cullen hissed out through his teeth at the application of a bandage. “Why would we want you to come to us injured?”

There was a little huff from the man at his side. A man beautiful in a way that set the heart to race under threat as much as thrall. “It’s the principle of the thing, as you well know,” was the quickly bitten out reply. “How can he become one of us without being prepared to part with a bit of flesh?”

The hand still encircling Cullen’s wrist clamped down all the harder when Cullen couldn’t quite hide the shiver that ran through him. Somehow, however, it had yet to feel as constrictive as it should. 

“Dorian, shut up.” The little huff this brought about only made the man smile. It was easier to blame the little flip Cullen’s stomach did at the thumb currently stroking over his pulse point rather than that. “I’m the Iron Bull.” A little roll of the eyes at the pointed clearing of the throat off to the side. “And this is Dorian. Do you know what it is you’ve offered?”

It had all seemed so easy to recite under the cover of night when all were asleep or in the fields with the quiet rumble of it caught all but beneath the rhythm of work. Now all Cullen could think was that his tongue felt too big to let him shape out what was needed.

“I plight thee my troth…”

Perhaps that had been enough to get out, after all, if the way the world rushed to focus all around him was any indication. The hairs along his arms stood on end, even as the Iron Bull drew his hand back. It took half a second too long to realize that Dorian had pressed fingers over his mouth.

“This isn’t to be taken lightly.” 

Were it anyone else, Cullen might have thought he saw concern in those ever flashing gray eyes. As it were, it was easier to shake his head, hands clenching to fists at his side. “I want to save my people. If I’m not worthy simply tell me so, so that—”

The hand that settled on his shoulder was a heavy one, grounding him in place even as the spread of Dorian’s fingers against his chin made him feel as if he would float away entirely.

“That’s not it.” Dorian’s voice was little more than a purr; a sound Cullen had never heard from any human throat. “Do you really think it our wish to release you?” There were fingers against his pulse, something that should make it race faster with fear not…some other private thing not to be named. “But it has to be your choice.”

“How more of it can it be?” Cullen somehow found the voice to demand.

Bull’s laughter was a deep rumble at his back. “Let us leave you gifts, show you what we have to offer. And, as the earth ripens to match yourself, we will hear your answer again.”

By the time he trekked back home, the pale, gray streaks of morning light cresting over the hills matched the shade of his family’s faces. But even that wasn’t enough to wipe the smile from his face; a concern perhaps greater for more than just himself.

*

As one day bleed into another, however, it was all too easy to let the shine of what had happened be scraped away under the familiar, bland monotony of life. The only thing that refused to be erased was the cut upon Cullen’s palm. No matter how determined Mia had been in her bandaging, pretending to swallow the lie that it had come from something as simple as a fall, the wound would pinch at him throughout the day.

Common enough for it to happen when he went to grab for the rake or sickle; not so when trying to focus on the prayers to be murmured over each meal.

It wasn’t until those days were about to turn towards a week proper that Cullen dared to tarry for a moment longer before starting the day. He had been expecting to gather in some of the lingering warmth that was still clinging to the season. Not for a pile of stones to topple in from the windowsill, one right after the other.

All of it should have been a nuisance—another task to toil over before the day could start—but there was something to each one he picked up. Perhaps it was only from him overthinking things, but, still, there was little reason for one to match the deep red of his best cloak unless one had seen him in it. There were even some that shined from copper to gold, things that might have cost a pretty penny if brought into town.

That, at least, could be the excuse for why he hid them beneath his bed, if not for how he set them into a circle.

There were similar little rings about town; ones that the local children teasingly pushed one another towards, daring them to step inside and prove the legends true or untrue. That should have been a warding off of making one, Cullen supposed, but it made the mark on his hand thrum with a sense of purpose that was echoed within his heart when he was done. 

And, when he finally got the chance to lay his head down that night, his sleep remained so blissfully free of nightmares that Rosalie, their chronic oversleeper, was the one that had to wake him for chores.

From there, the gifts seemed to get easier to spot. If not from a newfound understanding that there was little point in expecting “normal” gifts from such creatures then from how the welt on his hand wanted to hum to life beneath the skin whenever he succeeded in finding one.

It took a day or two for him to realize the patterns of birdsong weren’t in their familiar, if arbitrary, rhythm, but rather a true song when put together. To his own credit, however, the wait might have come from the crows that apparently provided the necessary accompaniment.

The branches of the thickets that lined the edges of the farm twisted into knots. His fingertips had time to trace over the curve of hearts and even the spiked edges of a crown before it all began to part beneath his touch.

He came up short at the sight of the berry bushes, certain someone else would spot them. But when he tried to guide Branson to them, all he got were spit curses as his brother dug spikes from his hand and a tongue lashing from Mia for getting their hopes up.

It was what had led him back the next day, determined to make things right. There was still that nagging thought that this was exactly what should  _ not _ be done. To take from a boon like this meant you were risking a tie to something that could claim its due in a way you could never predict.

But then, hadn’t that been what Cullen had tried for in the first place?

The unrestrained joy on his sibling’s faces when he brought back his haul was enough to wipe away what was left of any discomfort, regardless.

They must have wondered where it came from, like the tufts of fine thread and wool Cullen was able to pluck from the tops of waving stalks to have Mia craft them all fine, warm clothes or the blade that now lay strapped against Cullen’s leg that could glimmer without any light cast upon it. But, outside of the sharp, heavy looks Mia would sometimes cast his way, there was nothing.

It would have been too much for such gains to go unnoticed, of course, but, somehow, even in this there were other hands at play. The cries of birds drowned out the questions of even the most determined gossip while hares or other small animals tripped beneath the feet of those who came too close.

Still, things couldn’t go on in such a manner forever. It probably should count for the best, even, that the first signs of that being true came in the prickling warmth beneath Cullen’s skin rather than the rumblings from town.

Branson grew ever more alert while Rosalie bustled about, gathering up all the usual things that might be used for a nest while moving other bits about their usually shared rooms so that Cullen could have the space to himself.

Of course it was Mia who had to be the only one not to lend a hand, at least not in the expected sense. Instead she waited to call Cullen to help her prepare the food for their next meal, creating a rare, if brief, window of time for just the two of them.

“You make sure they bring you back.” There was a wooden spoon rapped onto his knuckles when Cullen tried to protest. “I know you think you’re doing what you have to, but, so help me, I don’t care what they are or what they’ve done. If that lot treats you wrong, I’ll march up there myself to knock them around the head, you see if I don’t.”

Despite himself, a little laugh escaped Cullen. It was like being too small to see over the counter again, so certain in the belief that there was absolutely nothing that his elder sister couldn’t set to rights. “It won’t be for good,” he said. “I promise I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” There was a sly curve to the smile on Mia’s face, almost swallowing up the sadness there. “I would hate to have to give you a whap as well.” Her giggling was too rich to be drowned out by the sound of his squawking, which was quelled anyway by the press of her lips to his cheek.

After a spread of food that Cullen did his best to pretend weren’t almost all favorites of his, he was bundled off to a now mostly empty room. It was there that he waited for the breathing of his siblings to even out from behind the thin walls, gathering up each of the gifts he had received and what mementos he could before daring to open the latch on the door.

There were warnings about this too, of course, although it was never clear which side was being protected more through the claims. An Omega out and about like this, even so early into the first break of heat, ran the risk of being seen as having loose morals. A threat to any Alpha able to scent them, let alone the Omega’s own reputation.

But there was nothing outside to greet Cullen except for the cool, comforting blanket of night air. Hardly a bad thing when it helped to bolster his strength enough to get where he was needed. 

Maybe, after all that, it should have stood to reason that the hardest part would come when he actually got there. Before there had at least been a set of rules to follow. Now it felt as though even pondering the idea of going to his knees again was going to make them give out.

And, still, no one was with him in the grove.

The next, stumbling, bit of thought got his fingers to the straps that held his knife in place before those same fingers were caught in a much larger, warmer hand. Even without the heat currently rushing through his veins, Cullen didn’t think he would have been able to hide the shudder that came with Bull undoing the bandages to press a kiss to the mark that still lingered underneath.

“No more hurting yourself.” Despite the soft tone, the words were uttered with the weight of a command. “Not for us or anyone else.”

As much as a cliché it might have been, that was enough to make Cullen’s heart skip a beat in his chest. And that, at least, he could be sure had nothing to do with the condition in which he found himself in. 

There was still something that he had planned on making clear, however (with or without Mia’s intervention).

“If you don’t want me hurt,” Cullen said, “then you won’t steal me away forever after this is done.” He fought the urge to fidget under the arch of one of Dorian’s brows. “I want to… I  _ need _ to be able to see my family.”

The laughter that rumbled free from Bull a heartbeat or so later would have stung far more if it weren’t for the soft upward tilt to Dorian’s mouth.

“Is that all?” The wide span of Bull’s thumb made an easy swipe across Cullen’s palm before letting go. “You could wager for anything, yet you chose the one thing we would’ve given you freely.”

“Then I know I’ve made the right choice.” It was difficult for Cullen to keep from reacting to the swell of scents—foreign yet familiar all at once—that brought about. “I can keep my family safe, my home, and have people I trust. Seems like I’m the one getting the most out of this bargain.” He hesitated for just a moment, fingers gone clumsy as he fumbled with the strings of the pouch he had brought with him. “And with that in mind I just…”

By the time he looked back up, both men—such as the word could still apply—were blinking at him through wide eyes.

“You… You got  _ us _ gifts?” Dorian shook his head, laughter like a peal of little bells. “You do realize this isn’t quite how things are supposed to go?”

Cullen pursed his lips for one quick moment before returning with, “So what?” It got a chuckle from Bull, at least, if not a full one from Dorian (there was one hiding in the warmth of his eyes all the same). “Courtship is supposed to go both ways, isn’t it?”

Still, it was with a certain measure of trepidation that he reached out, fingers uncurling to show what was resting in the middle of his palm. It had taken no small bit of effort to get the rings just how he would like them and, even now, he wasn’t quite sure he had done right. It was a difficult thing, after all, to know the measure of someone after only having met them once. But, between the gifts and the lasting imprint of that first meeting, Cullen hoped he had gotten things at least close to right.

At the very least, neither man seemed to complain after taking them, examining the dark wood affixed with the designs of beasts—Bull’s—or Dorian’s lighter one, all twisting vines in careful sigils.

“You didn’t seem to like my first oath,” Cullen said, somewhat shakily, “but I thought this could—”

The mouth that pressed over his own was a firm, unyielding presence; one that would have liquefied his knees even without the other ease of lips across his throat. That he could feel the cool marks of the rings pressing in against his skin when their fingers locked in tight only made things all the better.

It was bold in a way he didn’t tend to let himself be as the tip of his tongue darted out to chase the taste when they drew back, but it wasn’t as if he was going to be judged. Particularly not for admitting that, “That was my first kiss, you know.”

“A far many firsts, perhaps, if you consent.” The press of Dorian’s fingers skirted against the edge of what Cullen truly needed, the touch just a bit too light in tucking his curls back from an already flushed face. “This would be your last chance to turn back,  _ amatus _ .”

There was a grumble in the back of Cullen’s throat before he could help it; one that made both figures near him snap to attention. “For the love of the Maker, would you stop thinking I want to turn back? I made my choice— _ twice _ now, even.” He spread his arms out wide, cocking his chin up. “So, come on already.  _ Take me _ .”

If he had realized what exactly he was offering, he might not have been quite so confident. It wasn’t as if he was expecting for the world to tilt as he was eased down onto the ground of the grove, for all that it was warmer and more soft than it seemingly should have been.

Still, the hands that came for his clothes were gentle, tracking soothing circles over the skin that was brought more and more onto to display.

“Did your tales not go this far?” Dorian’s mustache was a tickle against Cullen’s skin, smile only seeming to spread wider against his cheek as Bull’s fingers worked on helping him squirm his way out of his trousers. “Fertility should be matched with fertility, after all.”

The knot that Cullen’s brows had twisted down into didn’t fully undo itself until the blunt tips of Bull’s fingers brushed against what had gone so slick down below. “ _ O—Oh _ .”

“Last chance, remember?” 

There was no mistaking the heat in the deep undertones of Bull’s voice, particularly not with how his eyes seemed determined to keep Cullen locked in place under their weight. But there weren’t any other movements, not even from Dorian, which was more than enough to remind Cullen that, regardless of how he got here, he was making the right choice.

“I do just…” Cullen sucked in a breath, shaking his head when the bodies of those with him began to rock back. “I’ve never actually... _ well _ ...done this bit.”

It was embarrassing enough to admit it out loud; more so to have to watch the faces before him. Whatever the Chantry might preach, no one actually found a lack of experience to be attractive. Without having known beforehand what a tribute was truly meant to be, he couldn’t even be sure whether or not it cheapened what he had tried to offer. 

It certainly seemed like it should have until Dorian offered up a little sigh of something close to delight while Bull’s fingers dug in harder.

“Damn, kid, you really are a gift.” Bull hoisted Cullen’s legs up with enough force to make him yelp, squirming as those large hands spread him until he was left with little choice but to lock a leg around Bull’s waist. “Don’t even know how precious you are, do you?”

“Well,” Dorian said, casual, as if his fingers weren’t winding into Cullen’s curls. “There is something to be said for  _ showing _ rather than telling.”

“It’s alright, really, I can…  _ Maker’s breath _ !” 

That was apparently enough to make Bull chuckle, which would have been enough on its own, but with the wet heat of his mouth sealed around Cullen’s cock it was a torture. He didn’t even realize how he was trying to buck up for more until a hand pinned his hips down, mewling until the sound of it was swallowed up by Dorian’s own mouth.

That, on its own, created a sort of blissed out haze that Cullen could have drifted forever in. Except when Bull eased his mouth free, making Cullen whine in a way he truly should have been embarrassed by. Except then Bull’s mouth was lower lips pressing against something that had no right to be touched like that; at least not in any stumbling efforts at education he had received for this.

“You… You can’t, it’s not…” Cullen’s breath hitched as Bull pressed a finger inside of him, just one of his own feeling like two of his own on the rare times he had tried such things himself. “It’s not clean!”

“You say that like it’s not part of the fun.” Which was about all Bull seemed inclined to say before easing his tongue in along the spread his finger had made of Cullen’s hole.

It should have felt odd, foreign, but instead it felt as though his skin had been run under lightning. A feeling not in the least bit helped (or maybe it  _ was _ ?) by Dorian releasing his mouth to nip his way down his chest. A sensation entirely pleasing on its own well before Dorian sealed a mouth around one his nipples.

It was about there that Bull’s finger arched up until it hit that place inside that always threatened to make Cullen see stars when he found it and, Maker, this was too much.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll…” It was difficult to tell what was making Cullen arch up more in that moment—the press of another of Bull’s fingers or Dorian’s teeth dragging against his skin.

“That’s something of the point,  _ amatus _ .” The smile Dorian cast down at Bull was sharp in its slyness. “He’s going to be even  _ more _ beautiful then, don’t you think?”

“Won’t it…” It was difficult for Cullen to get the words out with the press of Bull’s fingers seeming to steal each breath from his lungs. “Won’t it be a waste?”

There were kisses along the inside of his thigh then, easing Cullen back down as he realized the rumblings of his Alpha weren’t from being upset with  _ him _ . “Don’t have to worry anymore about whatever nonsense those people tried to push onto you.” Bull’s fingers were twisting now, making Cullen gasp with each movement. “You don’t belong to them anymore, which means the only things that matter now are what you want to. And do you know what it seems like you want right now?”

Cullen, perhaps foolishly, was inclined to try to come up with an answer right up until Bull’s fingers pressed upwards to lean into his prostate. Which would have been more than enough without the slide of a tongue along the underside of his cock.

By the time he came back down, chest heaving, it was to see Dorian kissing the cum from Bull’s face. It should have made the Omega in Cullen restless, if not the natural part of him a bit averse, but instead all that happened was an odd, rumbling purr that he had never quite been able to manage before.

“That’s our boy,” Bull grinned. Just as good he was looking away just a moment later because Cullen was coming embarrassingly close to preening in that moment. “Now, Dorian, think you should go first, yeah? Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“You know that’s not entirely a compliment,” Dorian replied with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t protest anymore than Cullen did at having the Omega’s legs shifted over, although his eyes did widen a bit at how Cullen was prepared to do his best to resist the tremors in his legs to get them set around Dorian’s wasit. “Or, well, never mind.”

“Yeah,” Bull drawled, “that’s what I thought. Now, go on, show him it's worth it.”

“Already know that,” Cullen couldn’t help saying. 

It meant that there was an upward curve to the lips pressed against his throat, although the warmth that brought low in Cullen’s tummy was nothing compared to the inferno that came when Dorian began to press inside. The slowness of it was meant for him, he knew that, but the heat tended to carve out that part of him more inclined to hold other, more seemingly mortifying parts back. That, at least, seemed like the best excuse for how he dug hard into the small of Dorian’s back with his heel, arching up until Dorian was pressed in all but to the hilt.

For a moment, all Cullen was aware of was the swell of ozone around him; enough so that he half expected to feel the rain of a growing thunderstorm against his skin. Except then there was only Dorian, each sensation paradoxically grounding him while making him feel as if he was drifting off at the same time.

All of which would have been overwhelming on its own if Dorian didn’t wind up rocking to a stop right when fervor within Cullen was starting to spill over from beneath his skin. 

“Apologies,  _ amatus _ ,” Dorian offered, not that there was a hint of remorse in his tone or growing smile. “But it does tend to be a little difficult to know if one is doing a proper job of things when you insist on being so quiet.”

“What? That’s not…” There was the distant sound of Bull’s laughter from somewhere, which made Cullen want to grumble even more. “That’s not even important!”

“Isn’t it?” Dorian’s hands staked down Cullen’s sides until the cool press of his fingertips rose gooseflesh along Cullen’s skin. “Please, by all means, tell me how unimportant it is to want to ensure my lover’s own pleasure.”

It didn’t seem at all fair that Dorian should manage to be so coherent throughout all of this. Perhaps it was an odd thing to latch onto in the scheme of things, but there seemed little reason not to cling to it when Dorian kept glancing the head of his cock off that part inside of him, all with that damnable smile still in place. 

The impulse that grew within him as a direct result would have been one that he might have shoved hurriedly away under other circumstances. But then what had this whole experience been if not a lesson in what could be gained if he were to only follow his instincts?

That, at least, was the only excuse he would have been willing to offer for why he surged up all at once, rolling until Dorian was pinned beneath his hold instead. Figuring out the proper way to roll his hips in his new position took a moment or two, but he knew when he struck down right as much from the sharp pleasure low in his gut as the way Dorian’s hands scrambled all at once to find purchase on his hips.

“What I want… Maker a-damn-bove.” Cullen had to still for a moment, rolling his hips in a shallow movement that brought Dorian to a whine from between clenched teeth. “What I want is  _ you _ . And if I have to take that myself then I shall.”

Bull’s hips were settling up around his waist then, urging him down into a harder downward thrust than expected; something that had Cullen and Dorian crying out as one, “Well, you heard our boy then, Dorian,” was the quiet rumble against Cullen’s ear. “Let’s give him what he wants, yeah?”

It should have been tilting towards just the wrong edge of mortifying to be manhandled into working over Dorian’s cock, but Cullen was a bit too preoccupied with the pleasure that came with it to actually care about that. He got to loll his head back against the broad expense of Bull’s shoulders when it all got to be too much, able to feel the pleased rumble it brought forth when he did. And, even then, he had Dorian’s nails digging into his hips; tiny pinpoints of pleasure against the sharper counterpoint of the hard thrust of his cock deep inside.

By the time Dorian’s movements began to slow again, Cullen wasn’t in any position to complain. It would have been difficult to press for more when there was already a gradual swell coming; something that seemed determined to keep Dorian right  _ there _ on every upward thrust.

For all that this moment was nothing like the rare daydreams that Cullen had allowed himself in the past, his body still knew exactly what it was meant to do (or, quite honestly, what he desperately wanted). All he needed was to press down to make Dorian’s back arch, which would have been a glorious enough thing on its own without the hand that rose to fit around his cock.

It might have been easier to claim it was the quick motions of that hand that wound him undone, but things like ease or sense seemed to have gone right out the window after Cullen felt those first hot pulses of come within himself. 

“That’s… It could...” He didn’t even realize that he had pressed a hand over his stomach until he heard a deep, satisfied growl from beneath him. It made him preen without being able to help it, soothed all the more by the kisses Bull peppered along his shoulders. “Do you think it took?”

“That your way of asking us to call it quits?” Bull prompted. The laughter that came forth when Cullen titled his head back to scowl at him was loud and firm, vibrating all the way through Cullen’s body from where they were pressed together. “Guess that’s a no then.”

Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy to simply transition from one to the other, but it wasn’t as if that left either of Cullen’s partners inclined to leave him be. By the time the stretch against his rim had begun to subside with the warmth inside him once again shifting from comforting to overwhelming, it felt as though hardly an inch of his skin had been allowed to remain unmarked, lips used so thoroughly that it was next to impossible not to groan as they were captured yet again as Bull hoisted him up.

There weren’t any protests over being lowered to the floor of the grove this time, although, as he was quick to discover, there wasn’t going to be any chance at all of staying quiet as Bull eased inside him. 

The slowness of Bull’s movements mattered about as little as Culllen’s own biology fighting to prime him for what was to come—the man was  _ huge _ . If it was difficult to tell when he actually bottomed out, that was only because it had felt as though Bull had been sliding up into his throat well before that.

“Need to stop?”

It should sound incredulous, to put it mildly. The scent of Alpha has gone so strong around him that Cullen can taste the tang of iron on his tongue with each breath. Even without Bull’s pupils blown wide, it would be impossible to call him unaffected. 

But, despite all that, Bull’s hands remain gentle on his hips, regardless of their size and he truly hasn’t moved an inch since asking.

That is more than enough, even without the heating burning with the need for more or the rites of the ritual, however distant, in his mind, for Cullen to reach up, wrapping his fingers around Bull’s horns until he could pull the man down into a kiss.

“I know what I want,” he replied. 

Not that it was an easy thing to keep that sure, steady face in place when Bull began to shift inside him in earnest, chuckle low and dark.

“Is that so?” There was nothing soft to Bull’s touch now, fingers squeezing in as much to keep Cullen in place as to hear him whine with each increase in pressure. “This all you’ve got on the mind,  _ kadan _ ? Being breed fit to bursting by some Alpha?”

“Not… Not…” Maker but it was difficult to remember how to form much of anything at all when all rational thought seemed to be getting fucked directly out of him. “Not  _ any _ Alpha. Want to… Need to be good for  _ mine _ .”

Bull wasn’t the only one growling at that, he was sure; neither were the press of teeth entirely his either.

By the time the knot began to swell, pushing him impossibly wider around it, he had already run his throat raw with crying out. There was little left to do, but keen, trusting in his Alphas to ease him back down with tender kisses and the brush of hands.

His tongue felt too large in his mouth, slurring his words about as he tried to form them, but he pushed forward anyway. “Heat’s not over yet, you know.”

Dorian’s laugh was wild in its loud fondness while Bull only grinned down at him, hands stroking over his belly.

“Oh, don’t we know it, sweet boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S.: The land flourished, obviously, and Cullen makes frequent trips home while the whole town wonders where he always disappears to and who exactly gave him the growing belly he's so proud of.


End file.
